It’s just not like home
31 Oct 2012 9:25 PM GMT
I have special memories of the Durga pujas in Kolkata, the city of my youth. The beauty and bustle are still vivid, as if it was just yesterday. At this time of the year, Kolkata is transformed. The city is adorned with thousands of beautiful, inventive pandals. In each, reside images of the Goddess and her divine family, which are master classes in artistry. So many of these pandals and idols are created every year, but they are all individual; ranging from sublime to quirky, every one of them is worth a visit. The dazzling, animated lights attract huge hordes after nightfall, but the really important business of enjoying their family, friends and of course, food, carry on from dawn to dusk.
I have lost touch with the pujas though I can smell it in the air every autumn. This year, a chance remark from my four year old son on how he was more English than Indian, decided us on a course of rediscovery. There was no derision in his tone, but the certainty with which he said it, told me it was time to help him and his little sister connect with their Indian roots.
Both my children are UK-born and bred. Their father is from a close-knit English family who pull out all the stops for their Christmas and Easter celebrations. Every year, we join his clan for the festivities at their home in Yorkshire. Christmas Eve is an endless round of traditional goodies, topped with seasonal decorations, music and games, finishing off with that all-important visit from Santa after everyone’s asleep. On Christmas morning, the children wake up to the most impressive piles of presents. Everything they’ve ever asked for is there, because Santa, that jovial marvel, never fails to deliver. Spring brings the Easter Bunny with his treasure trove of chocolate for the children. On top of the array of treats at their grandparents’, there’s always a lively egg hunt that yields yet more chocolate.
It’s not surprising the children love these festivals, and long may it continue. I am from a liberal family who partook in everything. On the day of Christmas, we always had a twinkling little tree, sang carols with gusto and scoffed cake (with greater gusto). In much the same way, but also by birth right, my children are privileged in having not one, but many, magnificent festivals to celebrate. My husband and I would like them to embrace not just the fun festivals, but also the amazing culture and history of each of our countries. But as Indian culture isn’t all that accessible where we live, a bit of additional effort would be required to bring them closer to their Indian heritage. So, it was time to hit the road to discover Durga; the first time for the kids and all over again for me.
I knew an expatriate effort wouldn’t be a patch on a Kolkata puja, because immigrant communities simply don’t have the numbers to generate the required funds. There are less than two million Indians in the UK, despite that, there are pujas aplenty, even in Scotland, Wales, and the North of England. But the bigger, more vibrant pujas are concentrated in the heart of England, Midland cities like Birmingham and Leicester and in the capital. Only large London pujas with budgets stretching to 34 lakhs could possibly aspire to Kolkata-style spectacle, but the sums are still paltry in comparison and the spectacle necessarily diminished because of it. Even if they had the budget, health and safety laws in the UK would get in the way of extravagant plans.
Nevertheless, I wanted our toddlers to have their day with Durga at the nearest UK puja. We also had a fall-back plan in case they found it disappointing. I had a beautiful purple and gold sari for our little girl with a sparkling bindi and bangles to complement it, and a rich, red Panjabi for our son, which he wore with pride (happily calling it a ‘boy sari’). Leaving nothing to chance, we had also concocted the legend of the puja fairy. This involved spinning a yarn about the little copper statuette of the goddess perched on our living room bookshelf, who was there, we told them, to watch over them and reward their good behaviour at puja time. Stowed away were two gift-wrapped books they had particularly wanted, which they would receive the morning after our trip, as mementos of an important and hopefully, fun experience. As it happened, the additional inducements were unnecessary. It was a cold evening in Leicester when we arrived at the venue but there was a warm welcome waiting for us inside. With friendly smiles, they drew us into their circle. As the children were hungry after the long journey, they graciously fed them before the official dinner time. The kids so enjoyed this delicious, vegetarian meal. Their evident enjoyment of the food, company, and later, the entertainment was happy proof that they had begun to fall in love with their Indian side. They danced to every tune, commented on the show in loud voices full of wonder, and were showered with affectionate smiles and lavish compliments. When it was time to wrap up, they were extremely reluctant to leave their new friends, till we promised to return next year.
And so we shall, because keeping in touch with Indian roots when you live far, far away, is a lifelong endeavour, but with a little help from Durga, Ganesh and the whole pantheon, it should be tons of fun too.
Shreya Sen-Handley is a writer and illustrator. She now writes for The Guradian and other UK newspapers
I have lost touch with the pujas though I can smell it in the air every autumn. This year, a chance remark from my four year old son on how he was more English than Indian, decided us on a course of rediscovery. There was no derision in his tone, but the certainty with which he said it, told me it was time to help him and his little sister connect with their Indian roots.
Both my children are UK-born and bred. Their father is from a close-knit English family who pull out all the stops for their Christmas and Easter celebrations. Every year, we join his clan for the festivities at their home in Yorkshire. Christmas Eve is an endless round of traditional goodies, topped with seasonal decorations, music and games, finishing off with that all-important visit from Santa after everyone’s asleep. On Christmas morning, the children wake up to the most impressive piles of presents. Everything they’ve ever asked for is there, because Santa, that jovial marvel, never fails to deliver. Spring brings the Easter Bunny with his treasure trove of chocolate for the children. On top of the array of treats at their grandparents’, there’s always a lively egg hunt that yields yet more chocolate.
It’s not surprising the children love these festivals, and long may it continue. I am from a liberal family who partook in everything. On the day of Christmas, we always had a twinkling little tree, sang carols with gusto and scoffed cake (with greater gusto). In much the same way, but also by birth right, my children are privileged in having not one, but many, magnificent festivals to celebrate. My husband and I would like them to embrace not just the fun festivals, but also the amazing culture and history of each of our countries. But as Indian culture isn’t all that accessible where we live, a bit of additional effort would be required to bring them closer to their Indian heritage. So, it was time to hit the road to discover Durga; the first time for the kids and all over again for me.
I knew an expatriate effort wouldn’t be a patch on a Kolkata puja, because immigrant communities simply don’t have the numbers to generate the required funds. There are less than two million Indians in the UK, despite that, there are pujas aplenty, even in Scotland, Wales, and the North of England. But the bigger, more vibrant pujas are concentrated in the heart of England, Midland cities like Birmingham and Leicester and in the capital. Only large London pujas with budgets stretching to 34 lakhs could possibly aspire to Kolkata-style spectacle, but the sums are still paltry in comparison and the spectacle necessarily diminished because of it. Even if they had the budget, health and safety laws in the UK would get in the way of extravagant plans.
Nevertheless, I wanted our toddlers to have their day with Durga at the nearest UK puja. We also had a fall-back plan in case they found it disappointing. I had a beautiful purple and gold sari for our little girl with a sparkling bindi and bangles to complement it, and a rich, red Panjabi for our son, which he wore with pride (happily calling it a ‘boy sari’). Leaving nothing to chance, we had also concocted the legend of the puja fairy. This involved spinning a yarn about the little copper statuette of the goddess perched on our living room bookshelf, who was there, we told them, to watch over them and reward their good behaviour at puja time. Stowed away were two gift-wrapped books they had particularly wanted, which they would receive the morning after our trip, as mementos of an important and hopefully, fun experience. As it happened, the additional inducements were unnecessary. It was a cold evening in Leicester when we arrived at the venue but there was a warm welcome waiting for us inside. With friendly smiles, they drew us into their circle. As the children were hungry after the long journey, they graciously fed them before the official dinner time. The kids so enjoyed this delicious, vegetarian meal. Their evident enjoyment of the food, company, and later, the entertainment was happy proof that they had begun to fall in love with their Indian side. They danced to every tune, commented on the show in loud voices full of wonder, and were showered with affectionate smiles and lavish compliments. When it was time to wrap up, they were extremely reluctant to leave their new friends, till we promised to return next year.
And so we shall, because keeping in touch with Indian roots when you live far, far away, is a lifelong endeavour, but with a little help from Durga, Ganesh and the whole pantheon, it should be tons of fun too.
Shreya Sen-Handley is a writer and illustrator. She now writes for The Guradian and other UK newspapers
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